


Warmth

by 191615311



Series: McGenji Week 2016 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/191615311/pseuds/191615311
Summary: Five times McCree touched Genji and one time Genji touched McCree first, told in a weird disjointed timeskip-y fashion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am so tired I am so sorry this is probably too disjointed to make sense but hi I'm here I decided to write this like last night. I love 5+1 fic formats so sue me I also didn't think of a good title so.

The first time he nearly jumps out of his cybernetic shell, flying across the room at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. When he turns it’s just Agent McCree, standing there with his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry.” McCree says and truly sounds it. “Didn’t mean t’ startle ya.”

“It is… Fine.” Is all Genji can muster before he turns and practically runs. He’s pretty sure he didn’t manage to convince McCree at all, but the feeling of McCree’s hand - large enough to envelop his whole shoulder - burning into what passes for skin on his new body just won’t seem to fade. It sends tingles through the mockup of a nervous system he has until he finds himself in a training hall, trying vigorously to exercise it away. It remains, stubbornly, for days, renewed again every time he catches glimpses of the Blackwatch agent.

McCree is careful not to touch him after that. As a result, it doesn’t happen again for nearly a month. A handshake, this time, a celebration of a mission gone right, McCree extending his open hand to Genji like an offering. A long pause before McCree chuckles awkwardly, “Y’don’t… Have to.”

Genji darts forward and grabs his hand before he can withdraw it, like it’s a lifeline and he can’t miss his chance lest he fall and die. McCree’s hand is large and callused, warm against the cool metal of Genji’s plating and sparking a craving in his body to feel more of that warmth. Genji’s hands are one of the most sensitive parts of him and he wants to run his fingers over every bit of McCree’s hands, feel out all the imperfections on them, all the things that make him human. Things Genji doesn’t have anymore.

McCree seems surprised by Genji’s enthusiasm and forgets to actually shake his hand, standing there awkwardly staring at him. Genji stares back for several long moments through his visor until he finally gives McCree’s hand a quick shake and drops it immediately, stepping back. McCree looks down at his own hand and then back up but by then Genji has silently exited his line of sight. He crouches in the shadows on a high up ledge, lights off, systems working overtime in lieu of a hammering heartbeat when he no longer has a heart.

If he didn’t know better he’d think maybe that was fondness he heard in McCree’s voice.

One night McCree, far less than sober, stretches an arm across the back of the couch in the rec room. It stays there for a moment before sliding down right across Genji’s shoulders. McCree doesn’t seem to notice until Genji goes rigid and he starts withdrawing his arm, opening his mouth for an apology but Genji silences him with a touch, raising his own hand to brush McCree’s.

“Aw.” Is all McCree says, arm settling back in around his shoulders, warm and comfortable. “You’re warmer ’n I thought you’d be.”

Genji finally relaxes. It’s the first time he hasn’t jerked away from McCree’s touch like it burned him but he feels like he’s burning more than ever now.

Casual touches become more common between them after that, McCree resting a hand on Genji’s shoulder or bumping arms with him as they walk. Once, McCree twines their hands together. Genji isn’t expecting it and doesn’t know how to react as their fingers slot together. McCree doesn’t acknowledge it, continuing their mostly one-sided conversation. Genji figures if McCree isn’t going to say anything he won’t either. He doesn’t miss the way McCree squeezes his hand affectionately whenever Genji responds to something he says.

Eventually Genji realizes Overwatch isn’t doing well for him. He needs to find his own way in the world, go somewhere else, be someone else and figure out who he is now that he’s no longer Genji Shimada, playboy, ninja, irresponsible younger heir to an empire. McCree hugs him when he leaves, arms warm and tight around him, large body pressed up against Genji’s small frame, Genji’s feet nearly dangling off the ground. Genji aches, never wants to leave McCree’s arms but knows he has to go.

“I’ll miss ya, partner.” McCree murmurs and Genji pretends he doesn’t feel the tears that trickle between cracks in his armor plating. Pretends he doesn’t feel the phantom lump in his own nonexistent throat.

“I will miss you too, Jesse.”

Genji does miss him. He misses McCree’s hands, arms, the warmth of McCree against his side for the years it takes to find himself. Zenyatta has offered hugs after hearing how he misses them but it isn’t the same. It isn’t bad, it is comforting, but it isn’t McCree. It takes a while before Zenyatta points out to him that it might be something special about McCree specifically. Something special to him.

It’s years until Genji sees McCree again. Years where he’s come to terms with his body, years where he’s come to terms with what Hanzo did to him, years where he’s come to terms with everything. Years where he’s come to terms with how he feels about McCree. How he thinks he feels, how he felt the last time he saw McCree. How he knows he feels when he sees McCree again. The only greeting he spares in the moment, surrounded by other members of Overwatch, busy introducing Zenyatta to them, is a raised hand in acknowledgement and a greeting of, “Yo!”

It isn’t until later he seeks out McCree for a proper greeting. He leaves his visor behind in his room, he doesn’t need it for this after all. He doesn’t really need it to hide at all anymore. Only for protection in battle. When he finds McCree it’s in a spot he himself used to frequent, tucked away near the edge of the cliff, away from the perpetual lights of the base. The stars are visible here and McCree sits in his old spot, smoking a cigarillo and staring up at them.

He turns when Genji approaches, smiling but unsure. Genji settles down next to him, returning the smile as best he can when most of his lower jaw is metal. He’s been working on learning to smile with his face now.

“Jesse.” Genji finally says. McCree looks over at him, gives him a wordless, questioning noise. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, darlin’.” McCree responds, genuinely pleased now.

Genji shuffles up against his side, tugging at his serape until McCree complies, wrapping it around both of them. Genji doesn’t get cold but it’s still nice, comforting. Surrounded by the smell of cigarillo smoke and the warmth of McCree. He tucks himself in against McCree’s side, snuggling up close to him, tipping his head back to look McCree in the eye.

“Penny for your thoughts?” McCree finally asks, arm around Genji’s waist, holding him close.

“I was just thinking how much I would like to kiss you right now.” Genji takes the gamble and McCree looks shocked for only a moment before he chuckles.

“Funny that, was just thinkin’ the same thing myself.”


End file.
